Page 74 of Full Circle

Maggie squealed. “Sir, we’d like to try this on!” she called out to the store attendant.

Ten minutes later I was being laced into a corset-style top on a dress that barely came mid-thigh. If I danced with any kind of enthusiasm tonight, everyone in the vicinity would get quite the show. My friend might have also become a sadist because she seemed to relish my agonized cries from how tightly she laced me in. Pretty sure my tits were closing in on my throat from how high the corset shoved them upward.

“There!” she declared. “Check yourself out!”

I stepped out of the dressing room to look in the three way mirror. The dress was a pale blue, like a color you’d expect to see for Easter. Iridescent tear drop pearls were woven into the material, giving all of my movements a shimmering effect. The sweetheart neckline combined with the tight corset definitely made the girls perkier than they had been since I had Iris, but in a way that made me feel sexy. A frilly petticoat created volume at the skirt that flared out at the waist, making the length almost indecent. It reminded me of my prom dress, only way sexier.

“I can totally do your hair and makeup!” Maggie clapped gleefully. “Ooh, and shoes! We need some stunners to pull off this Cinderella motif you’ve got going on!”

Still mesmerized by the reflection staring back at me, I was barely paying attention when I declined. “It’s a masquerade, right? I want to wear something as beautiful as this over my face.”

Anonymity was the only way I would be brave enough to wear a dress like this.

“We also need to wax your welcome wagon,” whispered Maggie mischievously.

CHAPTER 33

SAVANNAH SURPRISES

WESLEY

Phillip sometimes deserved more than the obscene amount of money I already paid him, and pulling off a last minute charity gala for my foundation was probably one of those times. When my father raged about me missing my first day on the legal team, Phillip was able to smooth the whole thing over by providing information for my foundation’s event in Savannah that dozens of celebrities and politicians accepted invitations to attend. It was already established in my Madden Enterprises contract that obligations to modeling companies and Cure, Rise, Hope, my foundation, took precedence over anything my father might want.

What Phillip failed to mention was that this last minute event was actually a costume party.

I groaned. “I don’t want to wear some cheesy costume!”

Phillip shrugged. “Then wear your tux with a mask and a top hat. You can be the Phantom of the Opera.” He continued to clack away on the keyboard next to me on our first class flight.

Long gone were the days when I used Benedict Madden III’s private plane.

It wasn’t the worst idea to add a mask to my tux, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. My hope was to remain as anonymous as possible tonight so that I could slip away and head out to River’s Run. We were going to meet with the attorney early tomorrow afternoon to look over Aunt Shirley’s final Will and Testament, but I couldn’t stomach knowing how close I was to Celeste and not seeing her.

If all of the rich, conceited pricks who normally attended these functions sank their claws into me, I would never leave. Some of those fuckers could drone on and on for hours without saying anything worthwhile.

I liked that Phillip included a number of tickets at a cheaper rate for regular people to purchase. Those all sold out immediately. My guess was that he selected a venue that had some sort of VIP area to separate the society people from the rest. Maybe I could mingle with the non-celebrity guests and avoid everyone altogether.

“Find someone from a local salon who can give me a temporary new look,” I ordered. “I don’t want to be recognized.”

Phillip paused his typing, raising an eyebrow at me.

I sighed. “Just do it. I need a night off from being Wesley Madden, heir to the Madden fortune. I’m too wound up over everything else going on.”

Thankfully that answer satisfied him, and Phillip nodded before going back to his computer.

Technically it wasn’t a lie, either. Law school had been hard work, but it wasn’t what I really wanted to do with my life. Hell, corporate law was my least favorite out of all my classes. If I really had to practice law, I would rather do something like criminal or family law, something where I might have a happy ending down the line. Arguing with other egotistical jackasses in a board room over the various ways to make my billionaire father even more money wasn’t exactly how I envisioned my life going, but then again, nothing had been so far.

Grief was funny like that.

I accepted my father’s job offer because I had become so numb to him over the years that I no longer fought it. We both knew I still hated him with a burning passion—wouldn’t spit on him if he were on fire—but he kept me under his thumb for so long when I served my probation as a teen that it was second nature to me now.

He had to pull all kinds of strings to let me go to Montmeri, the international boarding school in France, while I was facing criminal charges like attempted murder. A whole team of lawyers worked around the clock on my defense, citing my youth, my mental state, and my history as a “troubled kid.” It took nearly a year to reach a plea deal that satisfied the judge, winding up with me on probation until I graduated high school. If my father or my probation officer ever reported poor behavior on my part, even bad grades, I would be sent to prison. That was enough to set me straight and keep my head down.

That, and the fact that I couldn’t access the girl I loved.

A flight attendant came over the intercom and announced we were beginning our descent into Savannah. Phillip snapped the laptop closed, preparing to stow it in his briefcase.

“I have a hairstylist and makeup artist meeting us in your suite,” he said.

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